Letters and Amazons
by constantlearner
Summary: A three chapter story mostly told in letters to, from or about the Amazons between August 1938 and August 1939.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **_(Skip this bit if you have already read Baltic adventure.) John and Nancy are recently engaged, to no-one's surprise. Having carried some secret papers across Europe and narrowly escaped capture as spies, they undertook to take David, a baby of a few weeks old, to his uncle who lives in London. David's uncle was unable to look after the baby. Nancy and John took David with them to Beckfoot. Turning up with a baby of a few weeks old after Nancy had been absent for several months has caused a good deal of gossip around the Lake and cost Nancy a job as a Games mistress before she even started. John has returned to his duties as a naval officer. The other Walkers and the Callums are staying at the Lake for a few weeks before term starts in September (later for the Callums) having had their own adventures in the Baltic and North Seas, during which Susan's arm was broken, delaying her return to nursing. _

_Anna and Jan are David's parents and saved John and Nancy from capture at considerable risk to themselves._

_I haven't given all of most letters to spare the blushes of the engaged couple. Can you imagine how furious they would be with me if I had? _

**Chapter one - 1938**

**John Walker to Nancy Blackett – August 1938**

Dear Nancy,

(Yes - you deserve something more romantic, but I've been writing that for years now so it comes automatically. And you've been getting a lot more letters than anyone else for years, darling. Did you realise?)

Your uncle has just left. There's a reasonable chance he's going to arrive at Beckfoot before this letter. I know you wanted to tell him about our engagement yourself, but I had to tell him. He certainly isn't going to forbid the banns, but we did start off with a bit of a row. At least he rowed me. Given what he thought he knew I can't blame him.

We both realised of course that there was a lot of gossip about us and David and I thought your mother dealt with it very cleverly, but I suppose not everyone hears all the gossip. Anyway, it appears that several people, including the GA, had written to him, putting the worst possible interpretation on our behaviour – mine at least. Of course he came storming along demanding to see me and speak with me in private. I got the impression he would have been glad if he had been able to challenge me to a duel. I rather suspect your less- than- respectable eighteenth century Turner ancestors might have had the same grand manner.

It also appears that he stayed in the same hotel in Helsinki – and so of course saw our names in the hotel register when he signed it himself. I can't help thinking that that was too much of a co-incidence to be a co-incidence.

I explained; he was mollified. I expect, darling, you are going to have quite a lot of explaining to do too. I rather expect that he'll know the questions not to ask.

Of course I had a lot of explaining to do after he had gone. I think, judging by the Old Man's expression this isn't the first irate father, uncle or brother he's encountered. Oh yes, he did speak to your uncle before he left – and to me afterwards. All things considered, I thought it was better to tell him everything. I think we did manage to surprise him.

If I don't finish this letter now, there's no chance of it getting to you before your Uncle.

I thought I used to miss you before. I miss you much more now.

I love you.

John

**Nancy Blackett to John Walker -August 1938**

…**..** Your letter did arrive before Uncle Jim, but not by long. He spent one night at Beckfoot – during which David put forth his best efforts. Mother pronounced it to be wind. She was, eventually, right.

I have had a reply from Anna. They are disappointed, of course that David is not with his relatives, but understand the reasons. At least they know he is safe here.

I had a rather frustrating conversation with Uncle Jim about it. He kept asking if this was how we wanted to start our married life. I kept explaining to him that no, it wasn't ideal but that we had taken on the responsibility and we couldn't and wouldn't shirk it. I did have a few letters back when I wrote to various places that organise adoptions. There are actually quite a few couples looking for small babies to adopt – but there are plenty of babies too, and not many people are prepared to look after a baby not knowing whether or not they might have to hand him back eventually. For some reason more people want to adopt a girl.

I told Uncle Jim that we'd be quite happy for David to go to another home, if it would be better for him, but tried to explain how unlikely it was that there was one. In the end, he stalked off to his study. I suppose he's just worrying about Mother really.

Anyway, he went off to the houseboat pretty quickly this morning. Susan is still very quiet. Peggy is back at work of course, and the others are on Wild Cat so she only has Mother and me for company during the day. Whatever she said to Jim, or he said to her has upset her quite a bit. Dick has fixed the pram so it doesn't squeak or pull to one side.

**John Walker to Nancy Blackett – August 1938**

…. I expect he's concerned for you as well. If he isn't he jolly well should be. Mother is on her way home, so Susan will be able to tell her about it soon – that is if she intends talking about it to anyone.

I know this isn't traditionally how it's done, but where would you like to go for our honeymoon? I have no intention of starting off by making decisions for both of us without consulting you, my darling, as I hope you have noticed. I think we'll have to spend enough of our lives dealing with the consequences of other people's decisions to be honest.

**Nancy Blackett to John Walker – August 1938**

…..To answer your other question – Wild Cat island. Smile as much as you like – I bet you _are_ smiling. I don't think there is anywhere else in the world that is quite as special to both of us. Of course the others will have strict instructions to keep right away.

Uncle Jim has seems to have found a possible new home for David! He met someone he knew – more of an old friend of Father's really, just after he had spoken to you. He seems to have told him about us and David. This friend, Lord Peter Wimsey, (Yes, he's the detective one.) has a friend, a Freddy Arbuthnot whose wife is Jewish. They have two children already, but would probably be prepared to look after David, indefinitely if needs be, but more importantly would be prepared to give him back to Anna and Jan if they do manage to leave Germany. Their children are still very young, so for David it would be like having sisters I suppose. I'll have to write to Anna and Jan and see what they say of course.

Lord Peter is coming to see us in a week or so about it. I think Mother is quite looking forward to seeing someone who knew Father and talking about him. I am too, to be honest.

Susan sent a telegram to say they had all got back safely to Portsmouth. Mother was quite keen for her to stay until the cast was off, but I don't think Susan thought it a good idea to leave Titty in charge of getting the other two ready for a new term. The Ds don't start until the beginning of October, so they have nearly another month. Prof and Mrs Callum are still away on a dig, so Dick and Dot have no reason to go back to London just yet.

**Nancy Blackett to John Walker - September 1938**

…..I expect Uncle Jim _might_ stop apologising before the wedding. Really it is just as well he did take it that way, otherwise he wouldn't have bumped in to Lord Peter and we wouldn't have heard of the Arbuthnots. Now that there seems to be a chance that I won't be looking after David for that much longer, I realise that it will be a bit of a wrench if/when he does go. It seems a step nearer admitting that Anna and Jan might never get away. There seems to be a monumental amount of paper-work involved. That's not to say it won't be a relief too. Mother is wonderful and would do more for David if I let her, but if she gets up in the night she finds it hard to get back to sleep. I've put myself in the spare room and Peggy and Dot are sharing. Peggy still hears David sometimes when he wakes. It's a bit rotten for her as she has no chance to catch up during the day.

**Nancy Blackett to John Walker, September 1938**

Of course the Great Aunt said she was "coming to support Mother". I suppose I should be glad she didn't make Mother ill. The GA seems to be almost afraid of David. David still can't actually do that much apart from wriggle a bit and smile, which he does rather nicely. Every time he did move, the GA eyed him as if he was a horse that might kick or something and suggested that he should be asleep in his cot. He has to be awake sometimes – how else is he going to learn anything? She didn't want to hold David either. Mother says she was like that with me when I was a baby too, so I suppose I shouldn't expect anything else. She had gone to live in Harrogate by the time Peggy was born. It suits me, because when I want to get away from the GA, I just announce that David needs more fresh air and take him out for another walk in the pram. Mother has the same idea, so he gets two or three a day. He is sleeping pretty well at night now! The GA demanded your address, so I'm afraid you'll probably get a letter from her. I hope it isn't too ghastly.

I've had another letter from Anna and Jan. They are very circumspect but are full of thanks to us both and send their congratulations. They ask after you.

The D's have escaped the GA as they are now staying at with the Dixons. They did come over for afternoon tea – very prim and proper. Everyone remembered when we were supposed to have met each other – just. There was one narrow squeak. The Great Aunt said something about the lake freezing over and "unbridled behaviour" in Rio bay. Peg asked Dorothea if she remembered the being able to hear the noise from Rio, but Dick quickly said that Mrs Dixon had mentioned it in a letter, so that went off alright. Both the D's seemed a bit quiet, even for them. Maybe they aren't looking forward to going back to university.

**John Walker to Nancy Blackett, September 1938**

I did get a letter from her. All neat, tidy and almost unreadable handwriting. It took me a few goes to work it out. The gist of it was that she intended to welcome me into the family by outlining all the ways in which you are far too good for me. I knew that already, of course. There was something about duty to the Empire. (She appears to think too much of it is not a good thing, but supposes I won't take any notice.) Given recent Hitler's latest demands I don't know how she can write that, but I could only decipher about one word in three, so may have misunderstood.

**Nancy Blackett to John Walker, September 1938**

I don't think that was what she meant about the Empire at all, but I'm glad you intend to take no notice!

I like Rachel and Freddy Arbuthnot. He pretends to be none-to-bright, but I'm fairly sure it is pretence. Having met her, I don't think Rachel would marry an idiot. More importantly, they will take good care of David. All the paperwork seems to be going ahead, albeit very, very slowly. Anna and Jan sent a letter giving their approval. Actually they sent two, an official one and an unofficial one. Things look so gloomy and if there is a war I don't want to be stuck here as if my feet were nailed to the floor with nothing to do but worry about you.

**Peggy Blackett to Susan Walker, October 1938**

It always does get quieter at the end of August and quieter again at the end of September. People are more likely to chat when there aren't so many visitors about. Yes, there are still a few people making snide comments about Nancy and John, just loud enough for me to hear. Of course, stuck behind a counter I can't walk off and since it is a post-office, I can't tell them to jolly well buzz off either. I wouldn't mention that to you mother though – I don't say anything about it to Mother, because I don't see any need to upset her.

**Nancy Blackett to John Walker, October 1938**

Well it isn't all off, but there is a delay. No-one seems very clear about why. Rachel and Freddy are talking about coming to collect David at the end of November now. At the moment he seems fairly happy to be held by anyone, but I don't know how long that might last. I asked Mother who said that it depended on the baby, and that she couldn't really remember, except that the Great Aunt had always scared Peggy and that she thought David already preferred me. I didn't say so to her, but I worry that she might be right. I'm still writing to Anna and Jan every week. They still write back, but very carefully.

**Nancy Blackett to John Walker, November 1938**

…I haven't heard from Anna for over a week. Mother is flapping about dresses and things. We couldn't just elope could we? Please?

**12****th**** November: Nancy Blackett to John Walker**

... I went and bought all the newspapers I could find to keep them for David. One copy of each title I mean. If, or perhaps when, the time comes that David asks why his parents handed him over to two total strangers, I suppose that will be a more convincing reply than anything that Rachel and Freddy can tell him – or you and I …..

**20****th**** November: Molly Blackett to Mary Walker**

… When Anna and Jan walked into the room, Nancy's face was a picture. She won't often admit to being taken aback, but Lord Peter certainly managed it. Bob always did say Wimsey was too clever for anyone's good, but this time I think it has done everyone some good. After that dreadful news, I am most relieved for Anna and Jan, of course. I'm sure strings were pulled. I can only be glad they were.

Bob used to describe Lord Peter as a "flamboyant blighter". I hadn't seen it before – you couldn't expect it under the circumstances the last time he came to stay, but he certainly managed to make enough noise locally this time. Of course a shiny motor car will attract a certain amount of attention from small boys of all ages, and I don't believe women do gossip any worse than men.

All this has had the effect of making those who were still making snide comments about the morals of our offspring look pretty silly. Peggy has carefully been not mentioning it to either Nancy or me. It seems strange to have Peggy being so protective. Still, she is nearly twenty-one.

Nancy is missing David rather more than she thought she would – although I think most of the weeping (which she thinks I haven't noticed) was relief that his parents did manage to escape. I might get her mind on to dresses and so forth now.

I'm glad to hear how well Susan's arm is so much better and I hope she is feeling a little more cheerful too. The pain was obviously wearing her down a good deal when she was here, although she kept saying it really wasn't too bad.

**28****th**** November 1938: Nancy Blackett to John Walker**

Mother has now decided that I really must "buckle down to thinking about the wedding." I pointed out that I was thinking about it, quite a lot. She gave me an old-fashioned look and made it very clear that she meant dresses and things and arrangements, not thinking about being married! Yes, love, I am sitting here with a soppy smile!

Mother and Father seem to have had quite a small wedding – I suppose because the GA never really approved of Father and it was wartime. I suspect Mother wants to make a fuss to show how much she does approve of you. She really does have plenty of sense.

Regarding bridesmaids, I've decided on Peggy and your sisters and no-one else. It seemed logical to include Dot in a way, but four is quite enough. Two would be enough really, but it would be too unkind. So I've made one decision and Mother is happier.

I've had an interesting letter from the admiralty today. I think the most interesting thing about it is the timing. It arrived 8 days after Anna and Jan turned up to collect David. (I don't know how Lord Peter managed that – and I don't suppose I ever shall.) I would have suspected the Very Senior Officer had a hand in it, but of course he would have no reason to know exactly when David was restored to his parents. I guess that your father had something to do with it, unless _you're_ up to something without telling me. Anyway, I'm invited to discuss "a matter in which I may be able to render some assistance" next week. I'm staying with Aunt Helen and Lillian. Mother is delighted and thinks I ought to look at dresses while I'm in London. I pointed out it's a long way to go for fittings!

**1****st**** December 1938: John Walker to Nancy Blackett**

My darling**, **

You didn't give me your aunt's address, so I'll send this to Beckfoot.

Thank you for being so generous about the bridesmaids. It must have been very tempting to have only Peggy, even though you didn't say it, but it will means a great deal to Titty, Susan and Bridget all in their different ways.

I certainly wouldn't dare to scheme behind your back! I'm as intrigued as you are about what the Admiralty want with you. I didn't write and tell my parents about Anna and Jan until the day before I got your letter. Did Peggy write to Susan about it?

If I ask Dick to be an usher, do you think it will matter leaving Dorothea without a specific role? Or will she be quite happy organising Dick? Ideally it needs to be someone who will know most of the guests and can be methodical and sure of being there. None of my other friends could be at all sure of getting leave at the right time.

Elopement seems very attractive sometimes. It really would disappoint everyone though, my mother as well as yours.

**December 1938: Nancy Blackett to John Walker**

Well, it was certainly an interesting interview. Perhaps I should say it was an interesting meeting. It started out as one and turned into the other. I think I'll certainly be staying with Aunt Helen for the next few weeks. They intend to re-form the WRNS and of course there will be no end of committee meetings about it. I don't think they intend to recruit all that many people unless (or until) there is a war, but they want to have a certain amount sorted out ready. That includes having a small number of officers already trained and with plans for recruitment and training in place. I've been invited to be one of them. It's going to be a lot more exciting than teaching games. No-one seems to mind about my being engaged either. In fact no-one has said anything about it, although Mrs M definitely noticed the ring. I think she intended me to notice her noticing. Anyway, I remind myself before every meeting that I am the youngest (at least I think I am) and try not to say much unless asked. I hope you're impressed by my restraint!

Lillian, who really does know a lot about dress and colours and that sort of thing, is taking Susan, Titty and me shopping at the weekend. Peggy has used up all her holidays of course, and Susan said we would get along faster without Bridget. She also said inviting Jim Brading wouldn't bother her, but that he might not accept. Still, you can say that about anyone who might not get time off from work.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note**__: Again, I have not put all of every letter in, nor have I put in every letter. This chapter starts off with letters and finishes with narrative._

**Chapter 2 -1939**

**29****th**** December 1938- Peggy Blackett to Susan Walker**

Happy 21st Birthday!

Does being properly grown-up feel any different? I'm rather suspecting it won't. Why not have a party if your parents are offering? I can see why you might not have wanted it on your birthday though, quite aside from actually being at work.

I think you did very well with the material, which arrived yesterday. I was rather worried that Nancy might go for something like navy blue or red, and the danger is that Lillian would egg her on to "be striking". The sketches Lillian made did make sense to me too. Yes, definitely Bridget's dress gets made last. Not until Easter at the earliest I would say, and let's put in massive seam allowances and a huge hem allowance.

What presents did you get? And did they keep asking what you wanted? I'm not sure what to say really about mine. Nancy has got impatient with my not answering and bought something – supposedly a surprise. It was sitting on the chest of drawer all wrapped up. It started ticking yesterday at bedtime so no surprises there! It must not have wound down completely and Nancy slams drawers open and shut like billy-oh, which started it off again. Nancy had made them prove the bell worked, too, in the shop, and it woke us up at a quarter past three in the morning. It was nearly half past before we could stop laughing enough to go back to sleep.

I shall miss that sort of thing I suppose.

Yes, the cake is well in hand. The Misses Martindale are making it as their wedding present. They've been building up dried fruit stocks since September in case there was a war and they can't get things. Well, it did seem quite likely. They are planning to start it in a month or two's time. They do make gorgeous rich fruit cakes. (I wouldn't let Bridget eat too much of it at the wedding if I were you – the Miss Letty makes holes in the cake with a skewer and pour brandy down every month while it is maturing). They ask to be remembered to you of course.

Do you keep getting people asking what John and Nancy would like as a present? Nancy hasn't said anything, so I have no idea what to say. Mother says no toast-racks as she got three when she married and plans to give them one as an extra. She can't remember which one came from the great aunt's friend though, and she thinks one might have come from Father's friend – the detective one.

**30****th**** December: Helen Blackett to her sister-in-law**

Dear Molly,

Happy New Year!

I'm glad you approve the fabric – and even more glad that Peggy approves since she'll be wearing it. Yes, I do remember the Pink Frock Incident – I got a couple of nice pen and ink sketches out of it for a boarding school series – one full page and one chapter endpiece – but Nancy was only ten then!

_Of course _she behaved perfectly this time. She was absolutely determined not to let John down in any way and was a model of patience and enthusiasm all day. I must say I am very curious to meet this young man.

You have no need to thank me. It really was a pleasure. It meant a great deal to Lillian to be involved. We both hope you'll come down for at least a week to help Nancy choose her dress though. What about the first week of March? That still leaves the best part of six months before the wedding, so it will be finished in plenty of time. You could buy your own outfit at the same time.

Much love from us both to you all,

Helen.

**Ist January 1939**

Dear Nancy**,**

Thank you very much indeed for the "Harriet Vane". I know you say the autograph and dedication cost you nothing but pride, but I value it anyway. And it is lovely not having to wait for the cheap edition to come out! Mother laughs at me and says it's the same book anyway whenever I read it, but it isn't the same as reading it before I've read all the reviews.

Yes, thank you, the arm seems to be completely better, barring the odd twinge.

With love,

Susan.

**1****st**** January 1939**

Dear John,

Thank you very much for the bracelet; it's lovely. I'm going to wear it to the theatre the week after next. (I was possibly a bit too enthusiastic in my appreciation the first time Nancy's Aunt Helen asked me to the theatre, and since you got engaged I now seem to get invited to some very odd plays with no story at all.)

I say John, you will remember to get something for Peggy's birthday won't you? Nancy got me something, which she never has before except that New Year they came to stay. She's got four new people to buy for, six if she gives Mother and Father something. You've only got two new people. Peggy's birthday is the 1st March, so you've got time to think of something. Not an alarm clock though.

Much love, Susan.

**15****th**** January 1939**

Dear Nancy,

Things are very quiet. Timothy is back. He's bought himself a motorcycle although he still seems to dislike anything but walking. He came to tea, ended up staying to supper and Mother got into such a flap about him riding off anywhere in the dark that he stayed the night as well. It took him a couple of hours to get over his shyness all over again – although I suppose he did come and see us of his own accord, so maybe he hasn't lapsed back into his old ways entirely.

He heard all our news. Oh, don't worry, I gave him the public consumption version, although I think it would have been safe enough to give him the other. I don't think he believed me in the slightest about us all just happening to get the chance to go to the Baltic anyway.

He laughed like a drain at the thought of you stuck looking after David and said he always thought John was insane and now he realises John must have committed terrible sins in a past life.

If you want him at the wedding, and I'm assuming you do, you'd better give him some kind of job or he'll probably bolt for the hills the moment he sees the congregation "gathered together."

with love from Peggy

**19****th**** January: Molly Blackett to Jim Turner**

…seemed quite happy to stay and chat, or rather listen to Peggy. The motorcycle looks jolly good fun. I'm rather tempted to see if I can afford one. Oh, not this year, of course, with the wedding, though Nancy won't let me buy her half the things I'd like to. After all, I can ride a bicycle and drive a car, so riding motorcycle should be a mixture of the two.

Anyway, I did wonder if Timothy was laying it on a bit thick about Nancy driving any husband mad, but even if he was, pretending not to notice is the best thing.

**20****th**** January****: ****Peggy Blackett to her sister**

Oh don't flap. I said that it would have been safe enough to tell him what we were doing in the Baltic, not that I had, you galoot. You're getting a lot too much like John, you know.

**22****nd**** January: Jim Turner to his sister**

I really wouldn't advise a motorcycle. Think about where you would put the shopping for one thing. You'll be right about getting petrol of course, although you might not get enough even for a motorcycle. I would advise you to seriously think about selling the launch now, or this spring at least, before everyone else makes the same calculation. Plenty of people will have done so already, so you won't get a good price for it I'm afraid. The sooner you get on with it the better.

**26****th**** January: Peggy Blackett to her sister**

Maybe, but I didn't mean it as a compliment! Yes, I am expecting to use your words. Younger sisters always get pass-ons when their elder sisters get married. I don't expect you to hand over "Shiver my timbers" until after you're married. You won't be needing it when you're it shaking hands and holding tea cups and making polite conversation with other officers' wives. It's not as if any of your clothes are likely to be in good enough condition to pass on!

**31st January: Peggy Blackett to her sister**

Don't be a donk. I like John and I'm glad you're marrying him. He does seem to get rather intense about things – they all do except Roger and Bridget - _and_ competitive, but he won't give in and say "yes, Nancy" to absolutely everything. A couple of years of being "yes dear"ed would make you unbearable or demented or both. I'm quite happy to hand the job of keeping you in order over to someone else. At the moment my spare time it occupied with learning to ride a motorcycle. It isn't ideal weather, but I'd like to have got the hang of it if/before Timothy goes off again.

**2****nd**** February: John Walker to Nancy Blackett**

…So,is there any chance you can manage those days as leave and come down to Portsmouth? Mother will write and ask you properly of course. If you can't get leave isn't there anything you could wrangle having to do in Portsmouth? You always have been able to make plans work out. It would be wonderful if you were there when I arrived.

**5****th**** February: Nancy Blackett to Peggy Blackett**

….So I am spending that week in Portsmouth, staying with the Walkers with more approval from Mrs M. than I thought I was likely to get.

Timothy teaching you how to ride a motor-bike? Did he volunteer or did you ask? It sounds good fun, but …. Timothy? This seems rather extreme in gratitude for a hutch he never did fit in!

**9****th**** February: Peggy Blackett to Nancy Blackett**

Look here, I didn't tease you about John, so that's jolly unfair, or it would be if there was anything to tease about. There certainly isn't from my point of view. It could be really awkward if there is from his. Anyway, I thought we'd agreed that we thought Timothy's interests were different?

Rattletrap can't last for ever (the gear box certainly won't!) and fuel could be very difficult to get for the duration if there is a war. Motorcycles use a lot less fuel. (Bridget suggested a pony and trap last summer. At least a motorcycle doesn't die if you can't get fuel for it.)

**13****th**** February: Nancy Blackett to Peggy Blackett**

It wasn't teasing! We don't really know about Timothy. So long as you don't care about him in that way, I don't expect it will matter. Maybe we were right and he wants it to look as though he's courting you. I wonder if you'll get anything interesting in the post tomorrow.

You can't eat a motorcycle if you run out of food, but you better hadn't tell Bridget that! Well, we are meant to be ruthless!

**14****th**** February: Peggy to Nancy**

Apart from your letter, which gave me a bad moment until I saw your scrawl on the envelope, nothing!

**17****th**** February**: **Nancy to Peggy**

Barbequed billygoats, Uncle Jim says that Mother is talking about learning to ride a motorcycle! You can't let her. Just think of the damage she could do to herself, let alone anyone else. Selling the launch is probably the right thing to do, though.

I shall be far too busy to write next week!

* * *

For the first time Nancy felt as if the Walkers, or one of them at least, saw her as an intruder. Bridget had been quite happy to see Nancy when she had arrived the evening before. This evening, Bridget plainly suspected Nancy of attempting to monopolise John's attention, scowling every time Nancy opened her mouth. Sitting on the sofa next to John (who had simply said, "Budge up, Bridget, I want to sit next to Nancy") Nancy felt quite content to listen Bridget recounting all her news to John and to hear John telling his family all the news he hadn't put into letters. Most of it, Nancy realised, she _did_ already know from his letters. Without meaning to, she squeezed John's hand a little and he squeezed back gently, a slight smile reaching the edges of his mouth and eyes as he continued to listen to Roger airing his views on the latest idiocy of the powers-that-be at school. They would have plenty of time alone together over the next few days when the younger ones were at school (art or otherwise). Despite the "international situation", despite the sad news she had to tell John when they were alone, Nancy Blackett felt completely happy.

* * *

Two people had been hovering on the half-landing, waiting for Nancy to come out of the bathroom and chatting in whispers. A dressing-gowned Titty shot into the bathroom as Nancy came out. Nancy startled, muttered an apology. She really didn't think she had been long.

"You weren't long." John assured her. "Titty's just being tactful. I just wanted to say good night. Was it terribly painful being quite so good this evening?"

"Terribly." Nancy whispered, lips all but touching John's but still grinning slightly.

This wasn't a time for bad news. She lost herself in the more urgent matter of kissing John.

"You're growing your hair." He observed, some indeterminate time later, wrapping some of the strands around his fingers. "I like it."

"Yes, it needs to go up in a bun. I can't keep it tidy without a bun net. Maybe it will be.."

She closed her eyes as his lips brushed her neck and one ear.

"Something distracting you, Nancy?" She loved hearing his amusement like that in his voice. It was all the more precious because she heard it so rarely. "A bun net, you? Really?"

She held him a little closer. "Yes, really."

"You're perfect." He murmured between kisses.

"I do love you. Lots."

* * *

She had been noisy with the bolt, rattled the door handle, worked the bathroom door backwards and forward to see if the hinges would squeak and staged an entirely unconvincing coughing fit. Titty decided she had done her best. She walked determinedly out of the bathroom and passed Nancy and John.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Titty."

Nancy had recovered her presence of mind faster than John but not by much, Titty thought, grinning to herself. She searched for a soft pencil and some paper in the pile of art materials removed from the second bed and put on the dressing table. It was a good (and productive) ten minutes before the door opened and Nancy slid into the room.

Absorbed in her work, Titty absent-mindedly flung her pillow at Nancy. Nancy caught it and sat patiently on the edge of her bed until Titty looked up.

"I'm sorry," Nancy said.

Titty looked at her incredulously.

"I'm sorry if we inconvenienced you." Nancy clarified. She grinned. "I'm not sorry about anything else in the slightest of course."

Titty grinned back. Nancy was still Nancy. It was somehow reassuring. She held out the sketch of the two figures –all jumbled lines and lack of detail and no faces – so that Nancy could see.

"Is that really what it feels like?" Titty asked.

Nancy's eyes, wide and dark with astonishment, met hers. Startled for once into speechlessness Nancy nodded.

* * *

They walked a long way next morning. Nancy wondered if it was John's reaction to the confines of a ship. John wondered if it was Nancy's reaction to the confines of London and meetings.

Nancy had recounted what she knew of Anna and Jan's escape. There was a silence.

"You haven't said anything about their neighbour." John said.

"I asked. I knew you'd want to know. Even though it is something you don't want to know."

"She deserves… Deserved?" He looked at Nancy. She nodded.

He started off again. "When we were hiding under the bed and she came to see that Anna was alright, you could tell that her memory, her mind wasn't what it should be. Age, I should say, as well as the grief of what they did to her husband. Even with all that, you could tell what sort of person she had been, what sort of person she still was. It wasn't bravado or putting on a front. She was too frail, mentally as well as physically for that. Thinking about how to help someone in trouble was all she was thinking about."

John stopped. Nancy nodded. She had never asked him to translate that overheard conversation. Being John, he would not repeat something heard by eavesdropping, however excusable the circumstances.

They had stopped walking and were standing together on the pavement in some quiet side street. Nancy had not noticed its name.

After a few minutes John squeezed her gloved hand slightly and said, "Go on."

"It was on the 9th of November. In the night. Maybe it was already the 10th by then. Anna and Jan had the papers, the passports, the visas all ready for the 11th which was when they were due to go Anna says there hadn't been as much trouble in that area compared to some of the places. Anyway, the pastor's widow came across the landing earlier in the evening and said that she would sit with them. She said that there would be accusations, later on, and that she wanted to be with them, so that she could say they were in her company the whole evening."

John opened his mouth to speak, then did not. Nancy nodded.

"I know." She said. "Even an honest magistrate, or whatever their equivalent is, might not have taken her evidence as reliable, the way her memory was. So they were all three in the flat when a group of them came, yelling and banging on the door and clearly meaning harm. You remember the fire escape that we ran up? It goes up another flight, Anna says, and then you can climb onto the roof if you stand on the railing and use the drain pipe. It's quite a stretch. It isn't any good as a hiding place in daylight, because it is overlooked by other buildings, but it was night."

"They couldn't have done it with a baby."

Nancy nodded again. "If we hadn't taken David with us, they might have tried. It keeps coming back into my mind – what might have happened."

After a bit she continued again.

"They got all the papers and climbed up. Eventually they broke the door down. Anna says they never knew how many were there – about ten she thinks. They yelled at the pastor's widow, who just kept repeating that she was only old woman and that she was alone. Some of the mob were neighbours, so they knew it wasn't her flat. They knew about the fire-escape too, and crowded out onto it and looked up and down. They kept urging each other to climb on the roof to check, but it's a big stretch and a long fall if you miss, so none of them had the nerve to do it." Nancy voice shook with anger. "Only the nerve to hit an old lady – which is what they had done. Eventually they decided that Anna and Jan had run down the escape and gone somewhere else and left to harass someone else."

Another pause.

"The neighbour had a black eye and a broken nose and bruises on her arms and hands where she had held them up to protect herself. Jan said the injuries themselves were something she would have recovered from, but that she had had a problem with her heart for a while and the exertion damaged it further. Jan did what he could for her and they got her to bed, but even with all the right drugs and things it might not have been any good. He sent Anna to ask one of the other neighbours to send for a doctor, but the neighbour said she was too frightened to go out. Anna said she would go, but the pastor's wife kept asking for her and got very agitated even when she went as far as the other neighbours and Jan wouldn't let her go."

"Was Jan laying that on a bit thick to keep Anna safe?"

Despite herself Nancy couldn't help a brief wry smile. "I think so, too, although there was probably some truth in it. Maybe they couldn't have got another doctor to come out anyway. Maybe Jan knew it was pretty hopeless. She died, and in the morning Anna went to some people who knew the pastor's widow – went to the same church. It was quite a long walk I think. These said they would make all the arrangements, death certificates and things and that it was better not to change plans. Anna and Jan could stay with them for one night before they caught the train."

"Oh, Nancy."

She wrapped her arms round John and he put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. She heard him swallow, hard, a couple of times. After a few minutes, he said, "Anna never did tell us her name, never used it where we could hear. It can't hurt her now, us knowing it. I don't suppose Anna told you?"

"I asked her. I thought you'd want to know. I wanted to know myself." And Nancy told him the name.

"Some people deserve not to be forgotten." John said. "Everyone does, really, but some people especially."


	3. Chapter 3

**Letters and Amazons: chapter three**

_Again, not all the letters and not all of every letter. Mostly Ransome's characters, with a slight touch of Sayers. Reading _Gaudy Night _by Dorothy Sayers would explain the Dean's slight concern._

**27****th**** February 1939: Helen Blackett to Molly Blackett**

Yes, that's fine. I'll come and meet you at Euston 3.45pm on a week on Tuesday 7th. It's a great pity Peggy won't be coming with you.

I have to admit to being impressed by your future son-in-law when I met him.

**1****st**** March: Peggy Blackett to John Walker**

Thank you very much indeed for the shoulder bag. It really is a useful size.

**1****st**** March: Peggy Blackett to Susan Walker**

I do like the material. It's lovely. Thank you very much. It's a really thoughtful present. Whether there is or isn't a war, I'll enjoy making an outfit out of it as well as wearing it.

**1****st**** March**: **Peggy Blackett to Nancy Blackett**

Thank you (again) for the alarm clock, which got used properly for the first time today. Thank you very much for the roads maps too. They were genuinely a surprise – and a useful one.

**1****st**** March: Peggy Blackett to Titty and Bridget Walker **

Thank you very much for the photograph album –it's a really thoughtful present.

**1****st**** March: Peggy Blackett to her Great Aunt**

Thank you very much for the lovely brooch. It's very kind of you.

**1****st**** March: Peggy Blackett to Roger Walker **

Thank –you so much for the wrinkle-cream. I'm sure it will come in useful for something.

**1****st**** March: Molly Blackett's not quite a diary**

Dear Bob,

Both our girls are grown up. I'm so thankful they've turned out the way they have. It isn't at all reasonable to feel like crying. I'm NOT unhappy. Not when I think about home and family stuff. I'm very lucky. I wish you could see them. I wish they could have known you properly, and not just as small children could. Peggy says she's not really sure now what she does remember, or if she's just remembering things Nancy told her.

**4****th**** March: Peggy Blackett to Titty Walker**

No need to apologise – he wouldn't be Roger if he didn't do something like that.

**9th March**: **Peggy Blackett to her Mother**

Please just buy an outfit and come back as quickly as you can. The GA is arriving this afternoon, to chaperone me in your absence! Cook is mortally offended that she is not considered a chaperone enough! I'm at work all day, so Cook will be left to the GAs mercy or lack of it. She's (the GA that is) learnt from last time and sent a letter, so that she was already on her way here by the time I received the letter. No chance of stopping her.

It seems someone has told her about Timothy teaching me to ride a motorcycle – her letter is full of comments about far from respectable young men and unladylike behaviour.

**9****th**** March: Peggy Blackett to Nancy Blackett**

I know she was looking forward to seeing Aunt Helen and I'm sure the change will do her good in a general way, but not if she comes back to find Cook has given notice! Just shove her on the first train as soon as she's bought what she needs to!

Providing Timothy doesn't run into the GA by accident, (He'll certainly shear off if he sees her coming) it's the effect on Cook I'm most concerned about. Uncle Jim isn't around when wanted of course. I haven't seen Timothy (or unfortunately had a chance to practise on the motorcycle) for weeks now, and did promise Mother I wouldn't ride it while she was away.

She does describe John as "a young man with a respectable profession." Do you think she's worked out that he's the same person as the "boy who was such a bad influence"? I was never quite sure why she blamed John more than the rest of the Swallows.

People keep asking me what you think is going to happen in Czecho-Slovakia. You're sure to know of course, being in "that London".

**12****th**** March : Nancy to Peggy**

Poor Peggy!

That's all very well but Mother does have a mind of her own! She's going back tomorrow (13th). If the GA hasn't worked it out, I don't see any need to tell her. Luckily everyone is too scared to talk to her more than they have to.

**13****th**** March: Peggy to Nancy: Telegram**

Uncle back Let Mother enjoy London Peggy

**13****th**** March: Helen Blackett to Peggy Blackett: Telegram**

Mother already on train please meet at 6 Helen

**13****th**** March: Nancy to Peggy (letter)**

She only missed two days. You did your best. It would have been fine if they hadn't gone shopping (again) on the way to the station!

**15****th**** March: Nancy to John **

It seems my little sister has grown up with a bit of bang. Apparently, the GA was having a go at Mother and Peggy turned round and told her that she hadn't been invited and Mother would run her own house in her own way and offered to drive the GA to the station there and then if she didn't like it. Uncle Jim writes that the GA shut up and stalked out of the room. They heard a bit of banging of drawers and things from the spare room and Cook began to get her hopes up. (She wrote to me too!) The GA appeared at supper just as if nothing had happened. Mother admits it cheered her up immensely (I had a letter from her of course.) and is now feeling guilty because it did. The GA supposedly gave up an engagement with someone terribly eligible to look after Mother and Uncle Jim. The GAs got her faults but lying isn't one of them, so I suppose it must be true. It seems completely improbable!

I wouldn't give you up for a hundred nieces and nephews. Why couldn't the GA have married this chap and looked after them anyway? It's not as if she'd actually have to look after them herself, they had nurse – and anyway they weren't babies by then.

**15****th**** March: Nancy to Peggy (postcard)**

Well done, Peggy! Love Nancy

**17****th**** March: Peggy to Nancy**

Oh you tame galoot! Your postcard nearly started it all off again. You know how she snoops about on the hall table or anywhere else for that matter. Anyway, she is going tomorrow.

Timothy called the day before yesterday just as Mother and Uncle Jim were being Told What The Garden Should Be Like. I expect he wanted to see Uncle Jim but rang slap bang into all three of them coming round the corner of the house so Mother invited him to drawing-room tea. They were still at it when I got back from work – second pot of tea stone cold (worse luck). I expect the GA was waiting for Timothy to go and he was holding on waiting for a chance to speak to Uncle Jim without the GA passing comment on everything. Luckily, he had been wearing what I suppose must be his best suit. The GA kept making a point of "my elder niece's fiancé and his respectable profession." Timothy knows exactly what she used to say about the Walkers of course and eventually succumbed to an unfortunate coughing fit and had to go home!

**17****th**** March: Nancy to John**

It's all looking very grim. Please, love, if we are going to war over Czecho-Slovakia, let's just get married as soon as we can manage to be in the same place at the same time. I was half joking about that before. I'm not now.

**19****th**** March: Peggy to Titty**

We can cut out and fit yours when you come up at Easter. Susan's too if she can come. Maybe if would be better if your mother could get someone in Portsmouth to do Bridget's dress a bit nearer the time. I am getting a bit tired so sailing by myself to tell you the truth and I'd much rather be sailing than dress making.

**John to Nancy**

Yes, of course, darling. Of course I'm still in the Mediterranean and you're still in London AND SOME IDIOT PUT THEM MUCH TOO FAR APART.

I miss you.

**John to Nancy**

For some reason your letter of the 15th arrived two days after the one of the 17th. Jolly good for Peggy!

I don't think I could give you up for anyone or anything. Certainly half a dozen nieces and nephews would be no obstacle. If he'd really loved her, surely this chap of the GAs wouldn't let her make them both miserable in some mistaken noble sacrifice?

**1****st**** April: Nancy to John**

A strange day to announce the end of a civil war. I wonder what effect it will have. I know what effect I hope it will have!

_Bismarck _and now_ Tirpitz! _Well it's obvious what they think is going to happen.

I miss you a lot too.

**7****th**** April: Roger Walker to Dick Callum**

Actually Peggy rides that motorcycle pretty well. I'm not telling her that of course or she'll put on no end of side. Squashy (no, I haven't called him that to his face – yet anyway.) says he won't let anyone else ride it. I haven't given up yet though. It looks far too much fun to do that!

Give my best wishes to Dot, won't you? – and the Death and Glories of course.

**20****th**** April: Molly Blackett to Nancy**

Well, the launch is sold, no thanks to you, you wicked child! Do you remember that poor gentleman you launched an ice-cream at, years ago at the games? He bought it. Luckily your uncle recognised him and sent Peggy to hide out of sight until he's been and gone. He might not have recognised her as herself, but you look a lot too alike to be sure he wouldn't spot the resemblance.

Well he did buy it – paid the asking price rather to my surprise. After we'd done the deal, he was busy telling me that of course there wouldn't be a war and that he knew people in the know etc. I do hope he's right.

Now why did you attack him with the ice-cream? Looking all wide-eyed and innocent and saying "it slipped off the cone" didn't convince me then, young lady, and it doesn't now!

**25th April: Nancy Blackett to Molly Blackett**

Dear Mother,

Well you know what they say about a fool and his money! Gosh, aren't I beginning to sound like nurse. I'm glad he parted with it in your direction.

To answer your question – it did slip. I went to quite a lot of trouble to ensure that it would! It would have been simpler to have just chucked it, but John and Titty were there and I knew I'd have to seem apologetic. Luckily he was so ungentlemanly in his language that no-one noticed that my "apologies" didn't include actually saying I was sorry it had happened. Perhaps Uncle Jim did, but he didn't give me away. Mr Not-really-a gentleman was beastly unjust to John in the snide sort of way that people never can fight back against and upset Titty quite a lot.

Best pocket money ever spent!

**30****th**** April: Susan Walker to Peggy Blackett**

They moved him year ahead when he changed schools. I think the theory was that the effort to keep up would keep him out of mischief! By the time Roger is old enough to be affected by conscription, I'm afraid we will already be at war. It seems likely at the rate Germany (and Italy for that matter) are going.

**9****th**** May : Dorothea Callum to Nancy Blackett**

Thank you so much for asking me to do a reading. I'll feel honoured to do it.

**27****th**** May: The Dean of Shrewsbury College to Lady Peter Wimsey**

… such puzzles as we have were all quite mercifully un-mysterious and easily solved. One of the first years is attempting to keep a cat illicitly, which accounts for the noise and Miss Callum in the second year is practising a reading for a friend's wedding rather than seeking spiritual succour for an examination-induced malady of the mind or soul. Miss Edwards was the detective who discovered the cat. I adopted the simple expedient of asking the second year what she was doing in the chapel.

**6****th**** June: Nancy to John **

So that's all the invitations posted. Peggy has decided that she's joining the WRNS too if there is war. I'm not so sure they'll let her leave the post-office when the war starts - I imagine it will be regarded as an essential service.

**15****th**** June: Susan to Peggy**

I'm not so sure Nancy's right. Yes, it is essential, but there will be plenty of women who don't work at the moment who might want to avoid being having to work in a munitions factory or something like that. I expect you could wriggle out of it easily enough if it came to it – but not quite at once.

**27****th**** June: Titty Walker to Nancy Blackett**

She might not recognise John, but she did come round and visit Mother, the summer we camped in Swallowdale, so I'm afraid your great aunt will probably work it out. I've got an interview for a job. One of my teachers (Art School, not High School) recommended me for it.

**5****th**** July: John to Nancy**

I think Roger has pretty much decided to join the RAF. Only being Roger, he'll keep everyone guessing until the last minute.

**10****th**** July: Nancy to John **

Now Peggy has decided that since there is to be a Women's Auxiliary Air Force she might like to join that – if-and-when. No "if" about it I think.

**15****th**** July: John to Nancy**

So Titty has the job. I involved doing scenery and making props and things for a film studio. Mother is rushing around trying to sort out digs for within cycling distance. (There's no telling what will happen with public transport and petrol.)

**11****th**** August: Nancy to Peggy**

So there was a practice blackout. Not very black, I thought. I heard enough complaints though! I expect I'll be home before I have time to write again – except just to say when I'm arriving.

**25****th**** August: **

**Molly Blackett's not quite a diary**.

Dear Bob,

If anyone else knew I was still writing this to you – or as if to you- after nineteen years!

The girls would worry terribly, so would Jim. Maybe Nancy is not so far off understanding, although understanding won't make her worry less – I hope she never does- not really. Not at any rate until she is a very old lady.

So our bigger little girl gets married tomorrow, knowing that in a few weeks, months if we're lucky she'll be waving her husband off to fight a war. She'll be going off herself, in that case, to do heavens-knows what.

And she's so cheerful and confident and _happy, _(as happy as she's ever been I think) that I'm really not as worried myself as I should be.


End file.
